Intermezzo I: Ignorance is bliss
by Shahrazad63
Summary: Two days after the boat incident, a dinner conversation takes an unexpected turn... Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_**Intermezzo**__** I - Ignorance is bliss**_

_---_

_A/N: As the title says, this is meant to be a series of short stories or vignettes, taking place between the boat incident and the grand and glorious party. The stories won´t necessarily appear in cronological order, not they will be necessarily connected to my other stories. __This one has not been submitted to my beta, Mellie D., so beware of the typos and funny grammar structures - English is not my first language, as you know by now._

_Mellie dear, this one of for you. I am hoping you´ll have fun with it when you are able to go back. We miss you at the forum!_

_Disclaimer: The usual - I do not own "The Sound of Music", etc._

_---_

**Part One**

_---_

_As for me, all I know is that I know nothing. _

_Socrates_

---

It would be the first time Maria and the children were going to have dinner with the Captain after his return from Vienna. The first time after that unfortunate first experience at the dinner table of an aristocratic family the evening of her arrival… She could only hope that her employer was not keen on first impressions, because, without any modest, and with a great deal of pride, she had to admit that her table manners had improved greatly ever since. It was the children who had helped her in that respect. She had also acquired the strange habit of checking her chair for any foreign objects, so that the pine cone incident was never repeated again, even if her intimidating employer was not there to witness it.

The meal, in itself was not making her nervous, although Maria was a bit wary because it would be the first time she was going to sit at the dinner table not only with the entire von Trapp family, but with other two distinguished guests, one of which – the Baroness – she had met only briefly, in the most embarrassing circumstances.

The Captain… well, she did not like to dwell upon him very much. It was good if she did not even try – the memory of the look in his eyes during his heartfelt apology, after hearing the children sing, was enough to cause the most curious feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had barely seen him since that moment, when she was standing on top of the stairs, her dress still dripping wet, a little worried about the mess it was making in the expensive carpet below her feet. That she had not had a chance to confront him again left her restless and disappointed – the scene in the stairs had such a dreamlike, unreal quality to her now that she wanted to ask him again, wanted to make sure that he had actually _said_ those words. The fact that _he_, Captain Georg _Ritter_ von Trapp, decorated naval officer of the Imperial Navy, had said those words to _her _was overwhelming enough. The expression in his eyes, the timbre of his voice when he said it… those were things that were so disturbing to her that she was trying hard not to think about.

"_I want you to stay. I ask you to stay…_"

It was nerve-wracking, because although the Captain had asked her to stay, he did not say for how long she could stay. She wanted – she needed to know that, for she still felt like she might be sent back to the Abbey at any second, the next time she did something wrong… Which was something that was probably going to happen sooner or later, she had to admit.

She hardly saw him again after he took back his heated words to her by the lake. That same evening, the Captain had taken his guests to dinner in Salzburg and she had dined alone with the children. In the next day, he had been busy showing Max and the Baroness around the property, so that she was left alone with her charges all day. In a way, dinner would be the first time she would be face-to-face with him since the previous evening.

Herr Detweiler – uncle Max, as the children called him - did not intimidate her at all, even though she was yet to meet him. The children have given enough information about him to let her know that the impresario could be as outrageous and outspoken as she, Maria, was in her worst days. No, she would be able to handle him quite well.

The Baroness, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter. Maria still did not know exactly what to think about her. She had never before met with such a sophisticated woman, elegant, as if she had just jumped out of the pages of one of the fashion magazines that her friend Theresa would smuggle into the Abbey, from time to time. She not only had to be the most beautiful creature she had ever seen, but everything about her, the way she walked, the way she talked, seemed… _perfect_, composed. If what the other servants were gossiping about was true, the woman the Captain chose to be the children's new mother.

That was the _precisely_ the problem.

Although picturing Baroness Schraeder as the Captain's wife, as the next Baroness von Trapp, was easy, Maria could hardly imagine her as a loving mother, even after seeing so little of her. Since Maria now considered it to be her mission to prepare the children for a new mother, naturally the main focus of her attention had to be _the Baroness_.

"_It is too early, Maria, you must give the poor woman a chance,_" she chastised herself. After all, the woman had arrived, witnessed that terrible mishap with the boat in the lake, then floated away, elegantly unaffected, past Maria, towards the house, as if the full extent of a sea captain's wrath, a wet governess and equally soaked seven children dressed in old curtains were something she saw everyday in the Viennese salons. Yet, less than one hour later, looking regal as usual, however, the Baroness had looked visibly impressed by the children's singing, and oddly touched by the small posy of Edelweiss Gretl had presented to her, with a curtsy.

The Edelweiss…

Maria had to smile at the memory of her little triumph against the Captain's stubbornness. He had, after all, refused to take the flower to the Baroness in Vienna, as a gift from the children. Maria insisted on the idea, and it had worked as she thought it would. The Captain's bride to be had been, indeed, been moved by the gesture. She made a mental note to _not_ let her employer forget about that, the next time he lectured her.

Now, she gazed at the children proudly. Not only they were not late for dinner, they were a couple of minutes early, their clothes perfectly tidy, their hairs neatly combed. Maria smiled proudly, as she inspected her little troupe – she had made an exceptionally good job with the girls. Even Gretl. The chunk of hair that was missing from the left side of her head could hardly be noticed…

While she was getting the children ready for dinner, Gretl had announced that she wanted to look_ exactly like Fräulein Maria,_ and asked Marta to help her. When Maria realized what she meant by that, it was almost too late – Marta, with a pair of scissors, had just cut a sizeable lock of Gretl´s hair… After she stopped worrying about the fact that small children and cutting objects were indeed a bad combination, she and the other children laughed about the whole thing. Well, little Gretl would have to disguise her hair for a while, until it grew even again.

Apart from that, everything seemed in order, as it should be. Maria sighed in relief, as they made their way towards the dining room, silently following the Captain and his two guests. His keen eyes had scanned his children, from head to toe, and, if he had noticed anything about Gretl´s hair, he did not say a word. Nevertheless, if there was one thing she had learned about Georg von Trapp was that he knew only too well just when and how to attack.

"_Do not be so sure, if he noticed, you will hear from him later,"_ Maria thought. _"He _does_ notice everything!"_

She knew that because, as soon as he had inspected the children, she too had been subjected to his quick, but through scrutiny – enough to awaken the curious butterflies in her stomach again. His eyes had narrowed in distaste, when he saw that she was wearing the dowdy gray convent dress. When she opened her mouth to utter her defense, he was already dedicating his full and complete attention to the dazzling Baroness Schraeder. The dress had not been her fault – well, not entirely, because the boat incident had been her fault, in a way. And because of her unscheduled fall on the water, the hideous dress was all she had to wear for dinner that evening.

Once in the dinning room, following the newly acquired habit, Maria quickly looked at her chair before sitting down at the dinner table. It was not only the memory of the pine cone that had taught her to do that. The children started their own little tradition of leaving a little something in her chair every night. It could be anything – a flower, a ribbon, a marble, beads… even a tiny miniature of the SMU-6 submarine their father once commanded.

Tonight, the _gift_ was a very sharp, nasty looking, pointed rock. Smiling, Maria picked it up and laid it on the table, on her left side, glad that she had remembered to check her chair before sitting down, even with the Captain watching her closely, for the ugly looking rock would surely inflict some damage to her posterior had she sat upon it.

"Thank you, children," she said with the usual beaming smile, only to notice that the Captain was watching her with the usual questioning intensity. She began her explanation. "Oh… ehm… it's a…"

"… a secret between the children and you," he finished, with biting irony. "Of course."

"It's from the Untersberg, Fräulein," Friedrich explained hastily. "I picked it up the last time I was there," he added, blushing a little.

"Friedrich thought it would be a good idea to bring the mountain to you, since you cannot go to the mountain at the moment," Louisa explained mockingly. "It looks nasty, doesn't it? Almost like a pre-historical weapon."

"That is why I picked it up, silly!" the boy defended himself.

"That was awfully nice of you, Friedrich. Thank you," Maria said quickly, conscious of the fact that the look in the Captain's eyes had turned dangerous. He was, after all, very particular about dinner conversations, and, without any words, he was telling – no, _ordering_ – to keep the children quiet. She picked the rock from the Untersberg and threw it in her pocket.

"Father?"

"Yes, Marta?"

"Can we really keep Fräulein Maria forever?"

The Captain stole a quick glance at Maria, who held her breath for a moment, hardly believing that it had been Marta, the most shy of all the children, which had dared to ask her father what Maria wanted to hear again. The children had been aware of the fight the previous day, and although Maria had assured them she had been allowed to stay, they too, wanted to hear the definite word from him.

"Can we, father, please?" the other children asked, in unison.

The Captain rolled his eyes. "Children, Fräulein Maria is not a toy, you cannot choose to _keep her_ or not." The young ones looked at him worriedly. "She may stay if she wants to," he said dismissively, trying to end the talk and start paying attention to his distinguished dinner guests, who were watching their interchange with a bored look in their faces.

"Do you want to, Fräulein?" asked Liesl.

"Of course I want to, my dears," replied Maria, keeping her eyes on her plate, not daring to look up at the Captain.

Murmurs of approval from the children were heard, as the meal started.

It was not the quiet affair Maria had witnessed before. Max Detweiler and Baroness Schraeder, apparently, were not as averse to dinner conversation as the Captain was. Maria was too busy concentrating on her newly acquired table manners to pay attention to what they were talking about – probably harmless subjects, such as the weather and the wine that was being served. She knew, however, that it was the guests that had his full attention now, not the children, least of all her person – but she also knew that he would immediately realize if something was not as it should be.

It was when she noticed what Brigitta was doing.

Brigitta was not unlike Maria in at least one aspect – she did not like to waste time. In her case, _reading time_, especially if she was currently with a book that captured her attention. When that happened, she would carry the book wherever she went. At the dinner table, it would remain in her lap, and she would even read a few words during the meal, if she had the chance. Maria had already advised her not to one day, after Brigitta had thrown up all over Liesl, after having spent a good part of dinner with her eyes shifting from the pages of Arabian Nights to her plate.

Maria stole a glance to the Captain. He was holding his wine glass, and his low laugher could be heard, after the Baroness had said something that amused him. Making sure that his attention was held elsewhere, she whispered, in a low, hissed tone, "Brigitta!"

"Mmm?" the girl answered, raising her eyes from the book in her lap.

"Not now!" Maria warned, this time merely forming the words with her lips. Brigitta, however, did not understand.

"What?" she asked, loud enough to catch the attention of her father, and halt the conversation in the other end of the table.

"No!" Maria whispered, with more authority now, only to notice that it was no longer the Baroness but her who held the Captain's full attention now.

"Fräulein!" he warned.

"Captain?" she inquired, as if she had absolutely no idea about what he was talking about. He said nothing, but he kept glaring at her.

Maria shrugged, then she threw here one of her best disingenuous, wide eyed looks.

"_I am not doing anything! I have no idea of what you are talking about,_" was the message she tried to convey with her eyes. Curiously, she realized that she was actually able to carry full conversations with her employer without saying a word – the Captain had a very expressive face when he wanted to. When he did not, he could be as inscrutable as a sphinx.

The sphinx was back, as his lips thinned, and he turned to his daughter. "Brigitta, put that book down, will you please?" the Captain said sternly. "No reading at dinnertime," he added, raising a finger to make his point, but softening his command with a smile.

"What are you reading so attentively, my dear?" Max asked. "Is it one of the books Uncle Max has brought you from Vienna?"

Yes it was, but Brigitta looked at Maria, uncertainly. Knowing what the book was about, Maria shook her head, advising the little girl not to reveal the _exact_ title.

"Brigitta, I believe your uncle Max has asked you a question," the Captain urged.

Brigitta looked uncertainly between Maria and the Captain. Maria gave another shrug. "_Well, _he_ asked for it,_" she thought.

"It is called _Wiggling Worms and other Slimy Creatures_," the girl answered.

Max laughed, amused. "I knew they would like that one!"

Maria narrowed her eyes at the Captain, in her best "_I told you not to ask_" face. Giggles from some of the older children could be heard, and the Baroness let out a little moan of disgust. Max laughed openly.

"Max, if this was your idea of a joke," the Captain started, his face dangerously cold. Maria immediately concluded that Herr Detweiler knew about the nature of the children's pranks, and had decided to amuse himself at their father expense. He then shook his head, and turned his attention to his daughter. "Uh… _Wiggling worms_, Brigitta?"

"Yes. Mostly earthworms. They are surprisingly interesting, father."

"I thought you children were done with playing tricks on your governesses," the Captain said, ironically, looking at Max instead.

"On Fräulein Maria, yes," Louisa said slyly, staring fixedly at the Baroness, who shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Her gaze alone spoke of what was going on her mind.

The Captain stopped cold. Max chuckled.

"_Oh Lord,_" Maria thought. She could very well defend herself against their pranks, and she had done so, brilliantly. The question was, would she be able to be equally successful defending the Baroness? Did the children respect her authority enough by now so that they would leave his father's future bride alone, if she asked them too?

"Father, did you know that earthworms are _herma… hermaphroditic_?" Brigitta´s sweet voice asked.

"What does that mean?" asked Kurt, who always seemed to be interested in the meaning of any new word she happened to hear. "Does that mean that they can be _eaten_?"

"Good Lord!" the Baroness exclaimed.

"It means that they are male and female at the same time," the Captain answered distractedly, probably still worried about what Louisa had just hinted.

"Fräulein Maria, did you know that?" Brigitta asked.

"That is interesting, Brigitta. The good Lord certainly knew what He was doing. It certainly saves a lot of trouble, doesn't it?"

It had been a completely unnecessary comment, Maria thought later, one that could be easily avoided _only if she could control her running mouth._ When would she learn to think before speaking? The innocent comment was what led the conversation to an unexpected turn.

"No, it would not, because they still have to mate to…," the Captain began, almost forgetting himself. He dropped his fork. "Children, wiggling worms and their mating rituals are hardly a suitable subject for a dinner conversation."

"I am sorry, father. It is just that they are so _curious_," apologized Brigitta.

"It's all right, darling," the Captain replied softly. "Just remember it the next time. And stop bringing books to the table"

"You mean you didn't know that, Fräulein?" Louisa asked Maria, ignoring her father.

"Louisa…" he warned.

"No, I had no idea," Maria replied, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. With the corner of her eye, she noticed that the Baroness and Max chatted on their own, without any interest in the children's conversation.

"That is a first!"

"_What_ is a first, Kurt?" the Captain asked.

"Fräulein Maria knows _everything_, Father," Gretl answered instead.

The Captain looked her. "Hah! Did you know _that_, Fräulein?"

"Know what, Captain?" She much too distracted by the dessert placed right in front of her. Frau Schmidt's famous apfelstrudel, served with a generous portion of hot vanilla sauce.

"Know that you know everything," he added, somewhat impatiently.

She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "Oh, the only thing I know, Captain, is that I know nothing". She proceeded to take the first generous bite on her strudel.

"Socrates!"

"Well said, Liesl," she exclaimed, just before sinking her teeth in that delicious delicacy.

"Thank you," the girl said proudly.

"There is _one_ thing Fräulein Maria does not know…"

"And what is that, Marta?" asked the Captain, who was about to sip his wine. In fact, he was about to ask them to be quiet again, but Marta's comment apparently had made him curious. The little one was also grinning like a cat who had just swallowed a canary.

"She doesn't know where babies come from," said the girl innocently.

Maria's mouth was full of pastry, and she choked on it quite violently. She coughed until tears came to her eyes.

From the corner of her eye, she vaguely saw the Captain paralyzed, his wine glass half way to his mouth, staring at her. Max nearly doubled over in laughter, and even the Baroness looked amused, although she tired hard not to show it, stifling a giggle with her hand. Friedrich and Brigitta looked as disconcerted as their father – the boy was even blushing. Gretl, Marta and Kurt were the only ones who continued what they were doing like nothing out of the ordinary had been said. Liesl was looking at her with gentle understanding in her big sapphire eyes. Louisa had left her seat to come to her aid and was slapping her back, not too gently.

"It's all right, Louisa, you'll break her ribs that way," said Liesl, trying not to giggle.

The Baroness did not have the same problem. "Oh really? How do you know that Marta dear?" she asked, amused.

"Because I asked her," was the candid answer.

Eleven pairs of eyes were fixed on Maria now, who tried her best to act like nothing out of the ordinary was going on, but being hopelessly betrayed by the color of her face.

"_Say something_," she urged herself. "_Anything!_"

"Mmmm…. Hmm… errr… yes, you certainly did, Marta," she said, recovering her voice. She cleared her throat. "And I didn't quite _say_ I did not _know_, did I?"

It was the wrong question to ask, because Marta answered. "No, you didn't Fräulein."

"Good!"

"You said you needed some research in order to answer me properly".

"That's right," Maria said, her presence of spirit more or less recovered now. If only the Captain would stop looking at her like… oh, she didn't know. She didn't dare to meet his eyes, but he was either glaring or mocking her. Maybe both…

"I am impressed with the way you apply the Socratic method in dealing with my children, Fräulein, although… uh… _research_?" he asked, with biting irony.

She looked at him for a moment, as he stared at her, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to answer.

Why didn't he just drop it? What kind of answer could he possibly be expecting from her?

The last thing she would imagine was that considering his aversion to conversations during meal times, if subjects such as earthworms were not acceptable, least of all would his children's proper education about the facts of life. She also knew him well enough not to provoke or challenge him during those times. The truth was that her intention was to talk to him first about Marta's question, since her complete previous lack of experience in dealing with children – not to mention her equally complete lack of experience in the subject itself - made it impossible for her to handle that particular subject in her usual nonchalant manner.

"Mm hm", she answered simply.

"Theoretical research, I hope," Elsa chuckled, and for the first time Maria could swear she saw the Captain fire one of his fierce glares at his bride to be.

"_Where ignorance is bliss, / 'Tis folly to be wise_,' he quoted, distractedly, taking another healthy sip of his red wine.

"Who said that?" the Baroness asked.

"Thomas Gray said it," he answered.

"Yes, and so did Casanova," Max could not help but taunt him, earning himself a fierce scowl from the Captain, to which he answered with a mock toast with his own glass of wine.

"_What does Casanova have to do with any of this_," Maria thought, just as she was saved by the bell. More exactly, by Kurt, who chose that moment to fall off his chair. The focus shifted elsewhere, and Maria could almost sigh in relief, as she helped the boy rise again, making sure he was not hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Intermezzo I - Ignorance is bliss**_

**Part Two**

_A/N: Here it is, part 2 of 5. I must give credit for the ideas in the following chapters to my "inspiring muses" from our fan fiction forum: lovethisstuff, emmaliesl, adda, odie, Maria´s Georg, silverwhitewinters... Oh dear, I hope I remembered everybody! I could not have written any of this without you, so THANK YOU!_

_Disclaimer: See chapter 1._

---

_Where ignorance is bliss, _

_'Tis folly to be wise._

_Thomas Gray_

---

Georg von Trapp´s boredom with life seemed to have reached its limits. How else could explain that almost pathological need to taunt the governess of his children at every chance he got? What other explanation could he possibly have for the fact that he had been brooding about the woman ever since he had left the dinner table? And for the second time – he had done exactly the same after the pine cone incident.

After the meal was over, he had retired to his study, saying to Max and Elsa that he had some naval engineering problem he needed to solve before it drove him crazy. As soon as he was alone, however, it was not the intricacies of submarine design that had occupied his mind, but Fräulein Maria.

Why had he not resisted the temptation of provoking her, _just a little?_

That was what he did at the dinner table, even though that earned him the most curious looks from Max and Elsa. The fact is that it was much too hard to resist, and the little Fräulein usually rose to the bait, and said something completely unexpected. At first, being thrown off balance by her words annoyed him, but now he almost craved that feeling. In the back of his mind, he wondered what he would have to do or say to push her too far.

He remembered the look in her face when Marta voiced her question out loud. Her reaction had been completely unexpected to him. Ever since her arrival, he had witnessed her suffer his children's pranks with stoical dignity, had seen her sit on a silly pine cone and promptly come up with an excuse, no matter how ridiculous it had been. She had even fallen on top of _him_, from a tree, while attempting to recover her hat (1). He had surprised her in the middle of a pillow fight with the children, that same night, wearing that tent of a nightgown that he assumed was the standard nightwear at Nonnberg. In none of those occasions she had reacted with any embarrassment – when she had, the moment was so brief that he had barely detected it, so immediate that was her recovery. He had never seen her confused or at a loss for words until dinner tonight, and that was what it looked like.

So, there _was_ a crack in her armor, she did have an Achilles heel after all. He should have guessed. He had been so tempted, so incredibly tempted, to tease her further... but something kept him from doing that, and he was not sure he would enjoy causing her further distress, at least not in front of his family and friends, and certainly not about such a delicate subject.

Georg von Trapp was a _man_ after all. An experienced man who apparently had no idea that innocence could be so… _alluring?_ Charming? Intriguing? Puzzling? He found that any adjective he could use to describe the feeling was, at least… _disturbing. _

Maybe that was the lure that drove men like one of his old acquaintances, the notorious Count András von Szaratay (2), to pursue young and even not so young females of any social standards with such determination. Was he about to succumb to the same temptation his friend apparently found it impossible to resist? He imagined that András would waste no time if he saw Maria. He would immediately see her as something to be conquered, properly seduced, deflowered, and kept until he stumbled upon the next innocent _ingénue_ stupid enough to cross his path. The picture worked well with the Count on one side, but when he added Maria in the other end, the idea was utterly repulsive. Revolting enough to make him wish to scratch András´s eyes out, even though the Hungarian had never met the Fräulein, and would probably never meet. No, never – he would see that it did not happen, if he could help it. And if it did happen, he would make sure to keep an eye on Fräulein Maria – for her protection, of course, he told himself. He had, after all, made a promise to the Mother Abbess of Nonnberg that he would keep her safe.

Certainly he would be able to guard her virtue against the rakes and scoundrels of European aristocracy, but would he keep her safe from _himself_?

No, he would never think of her that way. What was he thinking? – He would never think of _any_ woman that way. His wild days were long gone, he had put an end to them the day he had first met the woman he would end up marrying. He certainly had never seen his wife under that light, even though, not unlike his governess, her innocence had been quite obvious.

No, no - not quite. Agathe Whitehead had been different.

"_Why am I comparing _her_ to Agathe?_" He punched his desk.

Yet, somehow, he could not help it. Although as prim and proper as a young lady of her station and upbringing was expected to be, the first Baroness von Trapp had been raised and prepared for matrimony and childbearing. Fräulein Maria, on the other hand, did not seem to want or care for any of those things. A man, marriage, children… all seemed not to be a part of her world. He remembered her falling from that tree on top of him the very first day she arrived – he had little doubt that it had been the first and only time in her life she had been less than one arm's length from a man.

As for children, she obviously cared for them, but that was only a natural consequence of her religious vocation. She had chosen Nonnberg, where the nuns dedicated themselves to teaching. She certainly never even considered becoming a mother herself. That gave her an ethereal aura, of a woman unattainable, a woman whose body might be conquered, but never her soul – not if she did not want to.

"_Would she ever want to?_" he asked himself.

"Captain, may I have a word with you?"

The very subject of his reveries had just committed the mortal sin of barging into his private domains, unannounced.

"Try knocking first the next time," he answered irritably, annoyed by the fact that the governess had interrupted him just as he was brooding about _her_, wondering if she had ever, would ever... "Please," he added, reminding himself that he could not simply allow a mere slip of a girl to be the cause of him forgetting his good manners.

She stopped cold at the door to his study, her face paled a bit. "Oh, I'm sorry." Before he could accept or refuse her apology, she did something that nearly drove to the edge – she knocked on the door. "There," she said.

He decided to ignore her jibe – if he did not ignore it, he would be loosing control, like he had at the lake, and he knew now what the consequences of it would be. "If this is about the subject of our dinner conversation today, Fräulein, I must say…" he his voice died.

"Say what?"

His slips twitched, as if he wanted to smile, but did not dare to. "It must have been the first time I saw you completely unable to talk your way out of a problem."

"Oh, I wouldn't call that a _problem_, exactly Captain. As for being… _stuck_ with words, it happens, from time to time, I assure you. So much that I would not be working for you if I were any good at winning arguments."

"Carry on…"

"You see, I've been meaning to discuss the matter with you, in fact…"

"What matter exactly, Fräulein?"

"Erhm… permission to speak freely, Captain!"

He shook his head, impatiently. "I see that you picked some military jargon from my children already."

"It would be impossible not to, wouldn't it?"

"You no not need to ask permission to do that. You may do so, at your own will and according to your better judgment."

She looked aghast. "Captain!"

"Fräulein?"

"If you knew me, just a little bit, you would know that this might not be the wisest thing to say to me."

"I don't understand," he said, although he did know exactly what she meant.

"Well, you just gave me permission to speak, and generally all the nuns wanted to do was to find a way to shut me up! So much that they sent me away."

"Uhm… Point taken, Fräulein. However, I am fully aware of the risks in your case, and as the man of strategy that I am I do not take unnecessary risks. Most especially where my children are concerned."

"Very well, Captain, you _did_ say that I could speak freely."

"I did. And I wonder how many times you want me to repeat that. Say whatever is on your mind, Fräulein. You are usually more forward than this, aren't you?"

Her hands fidgeted in her lap, and his attention was drawn to them. "Very well. I've been living in a convent since I was…"

"When is it that you will be telling me something I don't know?" he asked, annoyed.

"I also warned the Reverend Mother when she sent me to you that I had no experience dealing with chil…"

"To the point, Fräulein!"

"Yes, Captain?" He was scowling now. "Errr… oh well, Sir. The point is that I am hardly qualified to answer… Marta's question. In any way."

"Hmmm…" He considered the problem for a moment.

"I know that it is a completely normal question coming from a child her age, but I just would not… I wouldn't know what to say." He frowned at her, his eyes narrowing into slits. He could almost see the words dancing around her brain, while she tried to keep them under control. "At least I would not know the _right_ thing to say. What if I said the wrong thing and… and scarred your daughter for life?"

"What were you told when you asked that same question?" he asked, slowly, his eyes never leaving her face, as he watched the fascinating play of colors in her skin, as she went from pale white to bright red, to white again.

"Well, I… I…"

"Yes?"

"I didn't! I mean, I don't even remember asking, Reverend Baron Captain!"

"Are you trying to convince me that someone as naturally curious as you obviously are, someone I found snooping in a room of my house which was to be kept closed, never had any curiosity about one of the basic and most fascinating mysteries of life?"

"You would understand if you knew my foster parents," she replied, and her tone was hurtful. He had indeed hit another sore spot. To his surprise, she continued. "They were not very… talkative, they did not like… questions. Since there was no money for books, I learned very early in life what a library was and how to use it properly. That is where I found my own answers, to anything I ever wanted to know."

"Hmmm," he frowned. So, she had found all her answers in a library. He wondered what kinds of books she had researched on, he wondered what the books of the religious schools she had attended all her life had to say about such a delicate subject. "Then may I ask, did that scar you for life? Is that why you ended up locked in a convent?"

She squirmed a little bit under his scrutiny, and he averted his gaze. "No, hardly that. I just did not believe it. I _never_ believed everything I read."

"That is very wise of you!" he said.

"_Why?_" he ached to ask her. What drove anyone so flamboyant, so boisterous, to choose a life of seclusion? "_What happened to you, Fräulein?_" he wanted to ask. "_You should be out there, driving a man crazy, giving him babies, instead of wasting your life away inside the medieval walls of Nonnberg Abbey,_" he thought. Well, at least he had to admit she had been driving him crazy, ever since he…

"_What am I thinking!_"

Maria's fidgeted uncomfortably, after he had been silent for a few seconds. Suddenly it hit him that he was discussing the facts of life with the governess of his children. That led him to think about her in a way that he was sure no employer things about a governess. At least he had never thought about a governess that way. Not any of the governesses he had himself while he was a child, not any of the previous eleven governesses he had hired for his children.

He closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again.

Fräulein Maria, had remained where she was, her wide eyes and moving fidgeting hand betraying her disquietedness. It was she, however, who was the first to speak.

"I think it would be better for the children if you handled the… the delicate subjects from now on, Captain. You are their father. I am not…" she spoke, very seriously now, her voice at least an octave lower than it usually was.

"I know, you are not qualified, you don't have any experience. I think we have established that quite clearly, Fräulein."

"My point exactly," she agreed, in the same low, almost husky tone.

"However, if Marta wanted to hear it from _me_, she would have asked _me_, don't you think?" was his logical statement.

"But…"

"Fräulein, I said I trust your better judgment, and I still do, even though at times it appears to me that you have none whatsoever." She let out a little shocked, offended moan. "Everything else is irrelevant, including your practical knowledge of certain… aspects of life. I am sure… no, I know you will know the right thing to say."

"Do you really _trust _me, Captain?" He glared at her. "Now, would Sister Berthe like to hear about that one. That may not be very wise, Captain."

"Yes, you already stated that very clearly before. Please, remind me to have a few words with Sister Berthe one of these days."

"But… but if I…"

"You will not, Fräulein. You won't. Now, will you please return to your charges?" he said, putting an end to one of the most bizarre conversations he ever had with a governess in his life.

---

_A/N: (1) See my story_ _The 12__th__ Governess_. _(2) Character in my story Austrian Folk Dances – The Ländler._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Intermezzo I - Ignorance is bliss**_

**Part Three**

_A/N: Once more, I should thank lovethisstuff, for some of the crucial ideas in this chapter. Maria, Georg and the facts of life... _

_Disclaimer: See chapter 1._

_---_

_It is well for the heart to be na__ïve and the mind not to be. _

_  
Anatole France_

_---  
All things truly wicked start from an innocence._

_Ernest Hemingway_

_---_

"There, it wasn't _so_ difficult, was it?" Maria talked to herself, after Marta had left the nursery.

No, not so difficult, but still she honestly hoped it would be the last time in her life she would have to deal with that particular matter. Teaching seven unruly, but musically talented children to carry on a tune in several voices had been easy. Answering questions like _where babies came from -_ not so much. In the end, she had to resort to her own faith, and a little bit of imagination to tell the little girl what she craved to know. She had to admit, it wasn't a very complete answer, but Marta had been happy enough about it.

At least for the moment.

Still mumbling, she started tidying the place up, picking up scattered books and toys.

"A Captain with seven children – what is so fearsome about that?" she said out loud, while picking scattered toys on the floor, repeating the same words she had told herself over and over again during her first ride from Nonnberg Abbey to Aigen. "Austria's greatest hero, my foot! Decorated by the Emperor – hah! Well, I showed him, didn't I? The great Captain von Trapp completely unable to answer an innocent question by his seven year old daughter. I wager the enemy would have a field day if they ever heard that one."

Nevertheless, Captain had been right about one thing, as much as she hated to admit it. He said she would _know_ what to say, and, when the moment came, somehow she _knew_, even though she was never given that same kind of explanation before. The idea just popped in her mind, based more on her religious beliefs than anything else. Marta was happy enough with her answer, and her eyes had shined, as only a child's eye can, whenever a satisfactory answer to a puzzle is provided. That is all Maria needed to know to be certain of her success. To think that she came so close to questioning her abilities as a governess! Her curiosity satisfied, Marta would probably not give it another thought for a while – long enough for the Baron to marry his Baroness and for her to return to the Abbey, where she belonged…

Oh Lord, she only hoped Baroness Schraeder had more sense and more presence of spirit than she had when the question had been first asked. At least it was certain that the woman would know _exactly _what she was talking about – she may not have born any children of her own, but she had been married, as the Captain had.

"Why me?" she blurted out, raising her eyes heavenward. She had never been married, had never wanted a husband, have never even _considered_ the possibility.

Why her?

It was when she heard his low chuckle. Startled, she straightened, letting out a little cry of surprise, immediately stifled by a hand covering her mouth. Wearing a light gray suit, he was leaning casually against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, with a Cheshire grin in his face, as relaxed and pleased with himself as she had ever seen him. It was one of those times that she noticed how wickedly _handsome_ her employer was. It was disturbing, because it certainly was not something that she _should_ notice about him.

Yet, she did.

How long had he been there, watching her? Judging by the expression in his face, he had heard everything – from her candid explanation to Marta, to her solitary outburst after the girl left the room.

Now, he was mocking her. How _dare_ he?

It was her turn to glare at his handsome, grinning face, while he still chuckled, and she did so, quite furiously. How dared he, to ask _her_ to deal with such a delicate problem, and then stand behind the door, listening to what she said to Marta, most probably ready to pounce on her with all his notorious Captain's wrath, in case she said or did anything he thought remotely wrong. And how dared he eavesdrop while she was talking to herself – about _him_?!

"Fräulein," he started, as he assumed his best stern face. "I have to inform you that as a former officer of the Imperial and Royal Navy that it would my duty to draw my sword for so much as _suggesting_ that I am a coward."

"What?" she interrupted him, her hands flying to her throat. Sighing in relief, she dropped her hands when she realized that he did not carry a sword with him. "Oh no, Captain, I did not mean to…"

He did not let her finish. "In fact, I myself would be court-martialed for failing to do anything against you and your insinuations. Whoever insulted an officer insulted the House of Habsburg itself," (1) he said with a slight bow. She did not know if it was that small gesture, or the subtle glint in his eyes that told her that he had indeed been mocking her – and she had fallen for it like a duck in a pond. She cast him an angry look, which he haughtily ignored, as he started pacing around her.

"Uh – _divine intervention_, Fräulein?" he asked, a clear reference to the answer to Marta's question. He did so with exquisite irony, entirely unaffected by what she believed was her ominous scowl. When she remained silent, he added. "Your candid explanation to little Marta," he explained.

"Yes," she replied angrily, raising her chin, and closing one of Brigitta´s story books loudly.

"It is _not_ going to work," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"_Your daughter_," she said coldly, trying to convey some kind of accusatory tone in the first two words, since in her mind, it was he who had to deal with such a difficult situation in the first place, "seemed satisfied enough with my answer."

"She might have been, but I wager that at this very moment she is confronting either Brigitta or Louisa about it. Probably Louisa – she idolizes her. You will _not_ get away with it," he grinned, uncrossing his arms and walking into the nursery. The room seemed to shrink with his magnetic presence.

"Ehm - how can you be so sure, Captain? She asked, cocking her head to one side and touching the short, uneven fringe of her hair.

He flung himself in the big armchair by the window. "Fräulein, Marta is the 6th child of mine to ask that particular question," he started, lazily. "Their mother took care of the eldest. I handled Kurt when the time came, and Brigitta asked Liesl what she couldn't figure out in a book. A similar, but not so… uh - colorful explanation was given by my wife the first four times, and by Liesl, since that was what she had heard. I followed the same line. It never worked."

"Why not?"

"The answer you provided, although very poetic, hopelessly romantic, and undoubtedly correct according to Catholicism, was essentially _incomplete_."

"Oh?"

"Oh yes. Allow me to elaborate on that. In my experience, if there is one thing a child cannot live with is a partial answer. Mark my words, you _will_ be questioned again. She will want to know _mechanically _how God accomplishes his task."

"Ehm – mechanically, Captain?" she asked innocently, at first not completely sure about what he was implying exactly.

"She will want to know _when_ and _how_, Fräulein!"

Maria felt her irritation grow, as she felt herself blushing again. She tried not to dwell upon the reason why her face was red, but on the fact that he had just informed her, quite casually, that _she _would be questioned again, and soon!

The man had _seven _children.

_Seven!_

A number high enough to convince anyone, even a convent bred girl like herself, that he obviously knew how such things were accomplished, knew only too well the _mechanics_ of it, as he called. The _when_ and the _how_. Yet, he had asked her to talk to little Marta about such a delicate subject. Why did he have to be so difficult?

"Captain, you are obviously very experienced…" he raised an eyebrow, as if bracing herself for whatever outrageous comment he _thought_ she was going to make, "… in dealing with such matters. Why leave it all to me?"

"Because it is the kind of thing that requires a… uh… how shall I put it? A female touch, a delicacy, a way with words, which I obviously lack. I tend to be…"

"Blunt. Insensitive at times, much too forthright, I should add."

"You made your point," he said briskly. "_You_, on the other hand…"

"Yes?"

"You deal with _me_ just in the same manner, you admitted it yourself…"

"_Wherever hurt is done, you shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, bruise for bruise, wound for wound_…" (2)

"All right, all right – again, Fräulein – _touché_! There is no need for you to quote the Hammurabi code." He raised from his chair, no longer relaxed. "Do not get used to it, I am not the kind of man who likes to admit defeat so easily." Maria crossed her arms and faced him, defiantly. He started pacing around her. "Now, if you just let me finish… Fräulein Maria?"

"Oh, I'm all ears, Captain!"

He threw her an icy glare. "Nevertheless, when dealing with children – my children at least -, oddly enough, you seem to have all the skills of a diplomat. It is a fascinating mystery to me."

"Hmmm," she hummed, raising her eyebrows. Had that been a compliment?

"Unless…" he continued, staring at her fixedly again, leaning forward on the chair.

"_No, not a compliment. Do not be so sure,_" she thought. But he hesitated, and she insisted. "Unless?"

He took a step in her direction. She held her ground.

"Unless your way of dancing around the subject is the _only_ explanation you know," he finished, his stance relaxing again, as he eyed her quizzically.

_T__hat_ had been offensive. Her jaw dropped open.

Maria may have lived among nuns most of her life, but not all her life. Most importantly, she was _not_ stupid. She may never have been even kissed by a man, may never have been close enough to a man to even _want_ to be kissed, but she knew only too well how babies were made. _Mechanically. _She had read, she had studied biology, for heaven's sake! Once in Nonnberg, she had even helped when a woman in labor had showed up at their door in the middle of the night. When she lived in the farm with her aunt and uncle, so many times she had been asked to help bringing horses into the world – she had also witnessed, in one or two occasions, exactly how those same baby horses were made.

The fact that the possibility of marriage and motherhood had _never_ crossed her mind, only helped her to see the matter in practical terms because the few times in her life when she had to confront the subject, she had been able to do so objectively, because it had nothing to do with _her_. To Maria, it had never been a big deal, never anything to worry too much about because, oh well, it was something that would most certainly never be a part of her life. That is what it was, a natural process, yet something that was part of a secular life – the life in the "outside world", as the Reverend Mother called it, a life that was not meant for her. Whatever else she had heard about the act of procreation, she had pushed aside to a hidden corner of her brain, where useless knowledge was stored.

Now that insufferable man, towering over her with that irritating half grin in his face dared to imply that she knew hardly more than the old birds and bees tale, or worse, the old pagan tale that babies were brought up by storks. The reason why a worldly man like him would believe that nuns were entirely ignorant about how nature worked was beyond her. It was preposterous, outrageous. If there was one thing Maria could not stand was when people doubted her intelligence.

The day the subject had been first mentioned, during dinner, she had to admit, she had been caught unawares. Her reaction had been embarrassingly… _awkward,_ to say the least. She had even felt herself blush, and for that she would _never_ forgive herself. It had been a reaction she still failed to understand. She had _never_ blushed like that before – in school, she had even been able to ask questions about that very subject during biology classes, without even flinching. Why _now_, precisely when she had to act in a composed, dignified manner, in front of her aristocratic employer and his equally noble guests, she had no idea. But she knew, somehow, that his steely blue eyes fixed on her during the whole ordeal _had_ to have something to do with it.

She took a deep breath, looking heavenward, while she thought of an answer that would clear this ridiculous matter once and for all. Luckily, she found it.

"I thought that the Reverend Mother had told you that I attended the School of _Progressive_ Education in Vienna (3)," she informed him curtly, in an attempt to end at least a few of the misconceptions he might have about her.

"Apparently, there are a number of things that the Mother Abbess of Nonnberg has forgotten to tell about you."

Maria frowned – what did he mean by that?

He frowned back at her. "How… _progressive_ this school of yours was, Fräulein?" he began pacing around her once more. That – the pacing - was never a good sign, she knew that only too well by now.

"Oooh, very, _very_ advanced, Captain." Somehow, she could not resist the temptation of provoking him, just a little.

He raised his eyebrows. "Advanced as in…"

She did not like that tone either, it sounded very disapproving to her. First she had a feeling she believed her much too innocent for her own good, much to naïve to take care of seven children. Now the suspicious look in his face told her that he was close to doubting her chastity because she had attended a progressive school. Was it all black and white to him?

"_Liberal_," she said simply, gloating a little when he saw him flinch at the word. Just as she realized he was about to snap at her again, because he had stopped his pacing and was staring at her as if he wanted to throttle her. She clarified, rolling her eyes. "It was progressive in terms of their educational methods, Captain, not in… in other areas. "It was a school for girls only," she added the unnecessary information _just in case_.

"Hmm…"

"They… they did not believe in _embellishing_ the truth over there. Or disfiguring it."

"Is this why you called my way of raising my children… how was it that you described it that day?"

"Wrong, outdated and unnatural," she said (4).

"I believe you said _completely_ wrong, outdated and unnatural." He resumed his pacing for a moment. "However, I think I have just caught you contradicting yourself, Fräulein." He stopped and turned around to face her. The Cheshire grin was back in his perfectly formed lips. He looked dangerous, very dangerous, and Maria began to feel as if he was leading her to a trap.

"How so?" She uncrossed her arms, then crossed them again.

"You said you did not believe in… _embellishing_ the truth, and yet you told Marta a ridiculous fairy tale! Which is to me, the clearest indication that you do not have the foggiest idea of what you were talking about. None at all."

"Oooooooh!" she exclaimed, outraged. "You… I…" she was so angry she did not know what to say.

She wanted to shock him, she wanted him to choke on his own words. Her life, however, certainly did not offer her enough for her to come up to such a statement, and she was too much of a terrible liar to be able to invent one. She used to run from the convent and escape to the mountains because she loved nature, not to meet any lovers. There had been not even one single stolen kiss, no rolls in the hay she had heard other girls in school whispering and giggling about. _Nothing_! The one boy who came close to trying ended up with a bloody nose and a bruised groin – she was 14 years old at the time. Finally, unable to think of anything else, she blurted out the most _shocking,_ the most meaningful admission that came to her mind.

"_I grew up in a farm_!"

The Captain did not look shocked at all. He burst on laughing.

Maria only stared at him, mesmerized. Certainly she had never seen him laugh like that. Nor was it a sight that she would expect to see again in her life. _Finally_ he looked like a sea captain – no, more like a sailor, in fact, one who had just been told a bawdy joke. She did not even know that in his world people were _allowed_ to laugh in that manner.

They were interrupted by the sound of Marta's voice, coming form the door.

"Father, did Fräulein Maria ever tell you how babies are made?"

Maria closed her eyes and counted to ten.

"No, darling, she did not!" the Captain replied, his voice full of mirth.

"Then _you_ should tell _her_, because I don't think she knows the _whole_ answer!"

---

_A/N: __(1) I must admit, these little comments by the Captain were borrowed from the amazing book. "A sailor of Austria", by Jack Biggins. I could not resist using it. (2) __Exodus 21, vs. 23-26. (3) The real Maria attended the __State Teachers' College of ____Progressive Education, in Vienna. (4) I borrowed this line from the German movie, __Die Trapp Familie._


	4. Chapter 4

_**Intermezzo I - Ignorance is bliss**_

**Part Four**

_A/N: Georg broods, and Max enters the picture. Elsa starts to have some ideas if her own. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: See chapter 1._

---

_There is no aphrodisiac like innocence. _

_  
Jean Baudrillard_

_---  
To conquer the enemy without resorting to war is the most desirable. The highest form of generalship is to conquer the enemy by strategy._

_  
__Sun Tzu_

_---_

"_She is _not_ meant to be a nun. She is not going to be a nun… It _cannot_ be the life she was born to live!_"

Captain von Trapp took a large gulp of his brandy.

"_Definitely not the best vintage_," he grimaced, feeling the amber liquid burn down his throat. Well, if that would result in a hangover, he would certainly deserve it. He had indeed been drinking a little too much lately – ever since a certain governess entered his world, as a matter of fact. If his wife were alive, undoubtedly she would scold him and hide the keys to the cellar somewhere. Where the hell did she hide his cigars the last time she caught him smoking them, only weeks before her death?

But if his wife were still alive, would he be brooding about young postulants from Benedictine Abbeys?

"_Certainly not_," he thought with a grimace.

He wondered if the postulant in question had any idea of the fact that she had been blushing all the time during their debate in the nursery. He wondered if her face would have ever return to her normal color again. She had tried so hard to act as if they were discussing an ordinary, everyday subject, as if she was not feeling her face burn, but she had been absolutely dismal at it. She rambled about her advanced, liberal, progressive education, and yet the five (at least) different shades of red in her cheeks and her fidgeting hands betrayed her completely. It made him wonder if that school of hers was progressive in name only – probably yes.

Of course he had no intention of leading the conversation to such a subject. He did not recall discussing the delicate topic of the children's sexual education with anyone else but their mother before, least of all a governess, and one who hardly knew anything about life other than what she had witnessed inside those convent walls and so-called _progressive_ schools. It had been _her,_ the way she reacted that made it impossible for him to resist the temptation of leading her to that final logical trap. He felt his need to push her, to make her to react to him, to make her descend for that ethereal cloud she seemed to live in. To show her that, in the world, there was much more than the mountains of the _Salzkammergut_ for her to explore, and that maybe, _just maybe_, she should experience a little more of that before she made the final decision to lock herself for life.

When she finally caught his bait, he had _laughed_.

Yes, her outraged "_I grew up in a farm!"_ cry had been hilarious enough, but it had not been the only reason for his appalling, nearly hysterical reaction. It had been a reaction to uncover another one, one that he was now trying to drown in brandy. What he had wanted to do was to take the virginal governess in his arms, drag her to his bedroom and teach her _everything_ about how babies were made, things that he was sure that they never taught her any _progressive_ school she might have attended, or in the farms she had grown up in.

That was it, the shocking truth he was now trying to digest. He, the worldly, cosmopolitan, sophisticated, experienced Captain Georg von Trapp, found himself irrevocably aroused by his children's governess.

"_Physical attraction, that is all there is to it. It is just skin deep. Nothing but a normal, completely understandable reaction for a man who has been without a woman in his bed for too long_."

If so, he had to ask himself _why_ wasn´t he reacting like that when the woman he wanted to marry was around? Why not Elsa, who was, like him, equally worldly, sophisticated and experienced, who made no secret that she would eagerly welcome him in her bed if he only asked? Why did he find so easy _not_ to sleep with Elsa simply because he planned to marry her, and by doing so he would risk damaging her reputation? No, Elsa, with all her flawless beauty had never affected him quite the same way. Yes, he did find her physically attractive, that was not to be denied, however, the attraction was of a different kind.

Maria… Fräulein Maria, on the other hand…

He felt a chill down his spine at the thought. No, not that, never that. Never again. The thought was too ludicrous to be even considered.

"You are playing with fire, Georg. Stop before it is too late."

He looked up from his desk to see Max, standing by the door. The sight of his friend was almost a relief, since it had rescued him from the very disturbing direction his musings were taking him. Funnily enough, the warning words spoken by Max had exactly echoed his thoughts.

"I have no idea of what you are talking about," he said haughtily, but his best friend was not so easily fooled.

"Oh yes, you do!"

"Elsa knows the rules of the game as well as I do, Max," he said, trying to lead the conversation to another direction that was likely to entertain the impresario as well.

"I am not talking about Elsa," Max said, walking to the decanter, to help himself to some brandy.

"_I_ am," he said, in the same haughty voice.

"All right, Captain. If you say you are than you are," Max toasted to him, with a mischievous look in his face.

Georg ignored his mockery. "She knows what is at stake for me, she knows that I have the children to consider. The children, and… other things. She will be just fine."

"I am sure she will, but I have known her for as long as you have, probably longer. She is not the most patient woman in the world and…" Max chuckled.

"And what?"

"Well, I hate to hurt your male pride, but you are not the only one interested!"

"I know that!" he retorted, with some exasperation. "If I loose, then I loose. I have lost before and I dealt with it just fine."

"The war, Georg! You have lost _the war_, you have never lost a woman to another man!" Max set his glass down. "This is not like you at all. Those are not the words of a jealous lover."

"I am not the jealous type."

Max laughed. "If Agathe were around, she would…"

"Please, do keep my wife out of this. And I hate to disappoint your dirty mind, but Elsa and I are _not_ lovers," he said pointedly.

"Yet," Max provoked.

"Max! I was under the impression that you were here to be our chaperon."

"Well, _I _was under the impression that you asked me to be the chaperon because you know how terrible I would be at that." Georg shook his head. "But I beg to differ about you dealing well with loss. Come on, Georg! Just look around you, just look at yourself."

"Beg all you want, Max. I will not loose this time. I know what I am doing. I will not be so easily distracted by…"

"Ah hah!" Max exclaimed triumphantly. "So there _is_ a distraction!"

Georg glared. "I refuse to dignify that with any further comments."

"Oh, I don't blame you. She is young, innocent, alluring, captivating, and she does have a way of getting under you skin even without trying too hard. Don't give me that look, as if you don't know who I am talking about. I sensed something in the air about this little Fräulein of yours while you were still in Vienna."

"_My_ governess is…"

"… never going to be a nun if she stays in this house long enough. God, I need another drink," said Max, helping himself to some more brandy. "Tell me, do you think Nonnberg would mind a _nun with a past, _or a not so virginal postulant?" he toasted, mockingly.

"You know me too well. I would not touch her, I would not…" Max gave him a look of disbelief. "She is going to be a nun, dammit! What kind of man do you think I am? I would never…"

"So you have thought about it."

"She is _not_ meant to be a nun!" he exclaimed, distastefully. "I mean she _is_ meant to be a nun."

Max laughed at his obvious slip of tongue.

"All right, all right, gloat all you want," Georg said, "I think I had too much to drink tonight. This bad brandy is just beginning to affect my sanity. Why don't we go and see what Elsa is up to."

--------------------------------------------------------------

"So?" she asked Max, expectantly, when he entered the drawing room.

"So what?"

"Where is he?" Elsa crushed her cigarette in her ashtray, nervous.

"The Captain has retired, of course, after having drunk too much of that suspicious bottle of brandy Herr Schneider sent him for Christmas last year. Terrible stuff, if you ask me!"

Elsa was very impatient – that was not exactly what she had been dying to know. "What did you find out? Were my suspicions correct?"

His answer was to quote their earlier conversation. "What about that "_I'm terribly fond of Georg and I will not have you toying with us_"talk"?

"Max, how can you be so _mean_ to me," she pouted. Of course she knew that one of the few things Max took very seriously and valued in his life was his friendship and loyalty towards Georg. He would not betray whatever the Captain had told him in confidence. "Max!" she insisted, hating herself to have to resort to what she thought was the lowest female weapon – _whining_.

"All right, all right. But I will not say a word – I'll let you guess instead. You draw your conclusions and I'll just say yes or no."

"Fair enough."

"You are in deep trouble, my darling, and that is all you'll hear from me."

"Oh Max! Is he really…"

"I said I would say no more."

"Infatuated?"

Max nodded. "Infatuated, besotted, bewitched, enchanted, charmed… you may add all the synonyms you want. As usual, you hit the target with scorching precision, Baroness Machiavelli! You were right – those madly peeling bells were not necessarily for you."

"That little nun turned out to be quite a sorceress! I can certainly understand why the children are so fascinated by her, but _him_!"

"The little Fräulein is completely oblivious, you should know that."

"Of course she is, and that is only making her more attractive to him! Even I have to admit none of this is not her fault. Otherwise she would not be parading in front of him in that clinging wet dress for _hours_," she exaggerated. "What shall I do?" She began pacing around the room, nervously. She lit another cigarette. "Oh, Max, what shall I do?"

"Elsa, you will know what to do, I'm sure. I cannot get involved. I owe Georg too much, and I do not mean money."

"You owe me too!"

"Yes, that is why I am just going to sit back and observe. You won't need advice, you're just too clever."

"The last time I saw him like this was when…" she stopped cold. "No, I don't even want to think about that. Loosing him to my best friend was one thing. Loosing him to a convent girl would be a terrible blow to my reputation… not to mention my pride. Imagine that!"

"You won't loose, Elsa. I think he is merely attracted by the novelty. Young, fresh, wholesome, innocent… Don't the French say that innocence is a great aphrodisiac?"

"I have no idea what the French say, Max, but if that is all there is to it, then I hope you are right."

"Of course I am right, I always am! What are you going to do about it, my dear?"

Elsa shrugged. "Well, _nothing_, of course."

"Nothing?" Max frowned at her. "I don't understand!"

"_Nothing_. Darling, if he is merely besotted with her, as we are quite certain he is, it is not worth the trouble to do anything. The children adore the little nun, and if they even imagine I might be the cause of her going away, they will never forgive me. _Ergo_, _he _would never forgive me. You know well as I do that he will not make me the next Baroness von Trapp if his children do not fully approve of me."

"Machiavelli would be proud!" Max applauded.

"Ah, but there is more. _If_ there is all there is to it, once he has his little _fling_, he will forget her soon enough. Even the children won't be able to keep him from sending her away, and he will have to, because naturally he would not be able to keep her as a governess after he slept with her." Max watched her in fascination, as her ideas developed. "On the other hand, if he does _not_ have his way with her, he will tire of the idea eventually. You are right, she is young, fresh, wholesome – _new_. She helped him with his children, she taught them to sing. Soon enough, this will all be old news. She will return to that convent of hers, and I would be here, his lovely little Elsa with arms open to receive him."

"Correction – I think you just have surpassed poor old Machiavelli."

"I am _not_ proud of myself, Max. You know, I never had the need to be this _manipulative_ before. But if that is what it takes, I am willing to run the risk. I will _not_ be the wicked fiancée trying to keep the dark and tortured but terribly handsome widowed hero away from the poor innocent and clueless governess. It is terribly _cliché_, isn't it? I was never fond of those hideous gothic novels! No, even if I were caught up in a story like that, I would want to be the heroine, not the evil witch."

"Enlighten me, then. What is this _nothing_ you are going to do?"

She gave him a mischievous smile.

"Max, you know me so well that sometimes it is almost frightening!"

"Do tell me!"

"I was thinking about that poor girl…"

"So you are worried about the little Fräulein!"

"Naturally I _am_ worried. The poor thing, it is not her fault at all. What kind of woman do you think I am?" There was a calculated expression of feigned innocence in her face as she said that. "Imagine if she finds out that the wicked Baron wants to bed her! How fast do you think she would run back to the protective walls of Nonnberg?"

"You would not!"

"Of course I would not. As I said, I will not be the wicked evil witch in this story. The children adore her, and Georg needs her to keep the children happy – which means _I_ need her too, at least for the moment. No, I won't do or say a thing, _unless_ it becomes absolutely necessary, of course. Now, let us forget about this nonsense. I have worried about this long enough."


	5. Chapter 5

**Intermezzo I - Ignorance is bliss**

**Part Five**

_A/N: The final part of this short story. Once more, I would like to thank not only those who reviewed this story, but my dear inspiring friends from the fan fiction forum. This would not be half as entertaining if it weren´t for you!_

_Disclaimer: See chapter 1._

_**---**_

_The indifference of men, far more than their tyranny, is the torment of women._

_Jules Michelet_

_**---**_

_Perfect behaviour is born of complete indifference._

_Cesare Pavese_

_**---**_

"One step forward, two steps back," Maria muttered a few days later, as she left Captain von Trapp´s study. If that was his idea of a Viennese waltz, it was a very strange one, although she was anything but an expert in what was called _the forbidden dance _not long agi. No, not exactly a waltz – it felt to her that here was a silent war going on between them.

She tried to speak to him about her idea of staging a puppet show with the children. It was something she knew she could do well, because she and the other postulants used to work with puppets at the orphanage. It was not only fun, but a very effective way to be able to reach children who were usually traumatized and had difficulty expressing themselves. The Captain, however, did not even look up from his morning paper, during, or after she had made her request.

"You do what you will Fräulein. As long as you never _invade_ study again," he replied tersely.

"_Yes, most definitely a war,_" she thought. At least if he was not resorting to words such as _invasion_ to describe her actions. She felt herself pale, felt her heart drop at his unexpected abruptness. Even Herr Detweiler, who witnessed the scene, raised his eyes from the book he was reading to give her a sympathetic look.

"Very well, Captain," she said, turning around quickly to leave immediately. Unfortunately, her foot caught on the carpet as she made her quick turn and she ended up sprawling on the carpeted floor. She braced herself to hear the usual "_Fräulein_!" bellow. Much to her dismay, nothing happened. No shout, not even an angry scowl. His head was still buried behind the newspaper.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she muttered, as she left.

What was she expecting? That he would change instantly, just because he saw his seven children singing in tune in front of his bride-to-be? That he would magically turn into that loving father, that almost mythical man the children never tired of telling her tales about? She knew it would not happen like that. Yet, why was she so upset, so about his cold treatment? Why did she care? Her employer seemed to have developed multiple personalities all of a sudden, and none of them seemed to like her very much. It hurt like hell, and she did not know why.

She simply could not understand. Only three days ago, he had welcomed her there in his study, and showed no reluctance to argue about some extremely delicate aspects of the children's education. He had even placed his trust her better judgment to deal with the matter herself. Two days ago, they had a bizarre conversation in the nursery about the same subject. Yes, he had laughed at her, he had treated her with his usual sarcasm, but at least he had been _aware_ of her existence, he had acknowledged her presence, even though that annoying smirk in his face was enough to drive her crazy. This coldness, this hauteur towards her was something that was almost entirely new. He had treated her like that in the few moments she was in the house, but not ever since.

"So, what did he say?" asked Liesl expectantly, as Maria, scratching her head, still a bit dazed, entered the nursery.

"I believe his exact words were "_you do what you will, Fräulein","_ Maria said, mimicking his voice_._ "In my opinion, we can take that as a _yes_."

"Well, he did not say _no_, did he?" Brigitta observed. "He did not say anything else?"

"Mm hm!"

"That is not like him at all. Did you mention that we would have to use the _ballroom_?"

"Yes, I did, Louisa, it was the very first thing I did."

"What is the matter with him?" muttered Louisa, as if to herself.

"Yes, why did he brush you off like that? I can't understand," moaned Brigitta.

"We thought he had changed. You said he would if he heard us sing," said Kurt.

"I said it would help, and it has," Maria tried to reassure the children even though she was not quite so sure anymore. "Come on, cheer up! We have permission for our puppet show, haven't we? Well, at least I think we have He did not say "_no, absolutely out of the question, Fräulein!"_" She looked heavenward. "_Oh Lord, please let me be right about this one!_"

"We still can't have a puppet show without puppets, Fräulein!"

"Very well observed, Friedrich. Yes, we'll have to… to think about that one too! Maybe… maybe we can make them ourselves, what do you think about that idea?"

The children, however, were too worried to get excited about Maria's plans, and they went on arguing about their father.

"He is almost like the old Captain again. Any time now he will order us to wear the uniforms and he'll start blowing the whistle again," spoke Kurt.

"I think the Baroness has something to do with it," chimed in Marta, wide eyed.

"No, silly, the Baroness has _nothing_ to do with it," Louisa retorted knowingly. Her siblings stared at her. "Forget the Baroness… What Liesl?"

"I cannot believe what you just said. Only one week ago you were chasing beetles to place under her pillow!" Liesl exclaimed.

"Oh, I am not worried about _her_ anymore. Father will not marry her. She will not be our new mother."

"How can you possibly know that, genius?" asked Friedrich. "Has Frau Schmidt been reading her cards to you again?"

Nose up in the air, Louisa chose to ignore her brother, giving him a haughty look. "It is meant to be a secret, Friedrich, between _Fräulein Maria _and me," she said mimicking her father (1).

"Louisa, please," Maria admonished. "Remember our little talk the other day?"

It was Maria's turn to be subjected to their curious looks. She did not know it was because she had just said that Louisa – who talked to no one – had actually had a little talk with her, or if because a _secret_ had been mention. A secret about her father. Oh, it was hardly a secret at all, but Maria still chose to avoid the subject.

"You must give the Captain a little time, children. Your father is…" she searched for the right word, "… _digesting_. I suppose we made too many changes, too quickly. Singing, play clothes, climbing trees, falling from boats, and now marionettes…. Maybe we should have let him adjust to them little by little, instead of expecting him to adapt all at once."

"I don't know, Fräulein," Liesl intervened. "He seems to be just fine with us. He now loves it when we talk to him and when we sing. He even asks us to do it when you are not around. I hate to tell you, but I think it is _you_ he is mad at."

"_Me_?!" Maria exclaimed stunned. It had been nothing that she had realized herself, but she was impressed that the children had noticed it as well.

"Yes," the other children promptly agreed, their faces worried.

"Oh, He would have already sent me away if that were any true, don't you think?"

Liesl did not answer, and the others looked at each another uncertainly. Maria had to admit that the girl had a point. The awful silence treatment seemed to be for her only. The reason why the Captain was spending so little time with the children was, oddly enough, her presence. Since the children were what mattered the most, she began walking away when their father approached them, because she realized he would not do so if she were around. It worked wonders, and she smiled in relief whenever she saw the Captain bonding with the children, from a distance.

"_Oh, he is merely treating you like any other governess,_" she told herself one day. "_Why do you think you are any different than the previous eleven?_ _Whenever one of the parents is around, what is the need of a governess getting in the way? That must be how it works in distinguished homes."_

When she thought about his peculiar behavior from this angle, it made a lot of sense. It hurt her feelings, but it was something she would have to learn with. She had never been a governess before, and she assumed that is what it was like. The children were _his_ family, not hers. She was just a temporary help, nothing more than that, someone who did not even belong to their social circle. At this moment, the Captain was probably only keeping her there only because the Reverend Mother had agreed that she should be with the family until September. She would not be surprised if he were counting the days until he would be able to get rid of her. If she had helped him to realize he wanted to get reacquainted with his sons and daughters, her work was done, and now he did not have to share them with a convent girl like her. It made much more sense to do what he was doing now, constantly, trying to bring the Baroness into their family circle, and doing everything to keep her out of it, unless her presence was absolutely necessary.

Naturally, the Captain's haughty treatment had been reserved for Maria only, and that only helped to support her theory. With his future bride, on the other hand, he was the perfect gentleman, never neglecting her for a moment longer than necessary, always making sure that she was not bored by the country life. He pampered her all the time with flowers and gifts. With Max as a chaperon, they went to Salzburg almost every evening, to attend a concert, followed by dinner, so that the evening family meals became quite rare.

The Captain's behavior towards Baroness Schraeder did not go unnoticed by the other servants. Maria tried to ignore the gossip and idle talk as much as possible, until it became inevitable. One day she was helping one of the maids to fold the children's clothes, when the girl turned to her and asked.

"What do you think, Maria? Are they or are they not?" It was obvious that the girl had been talking about the Captain and the Baroness.

"Are they or are they not what, Katya?"

"_Lovers,_" she whispered to Maria, and giggled. Maria blushed to the roots of her hair.

"Ow! Of course not!" had been her indignant answer. "The Captain is a gentleman. He… he would not dare to do that with his children around!"

"I'm sorry; I forgot you came from a convent!" Katya shrugged. "He is no saint, you know. Before he married the first Baroness, he…"

Their conversation was interrupted when Frau Schmidt entered the room, and Maria vowed she would never listen to such disturbing talk ever again, let alone participate in it. Like everything else, it had the absurd power to hurt her. How dare he do such a thing to the children?

He wouldn't dare… would he?

Meanwhile, the silent war continued.

Gretl was the one to speak up. It happened one day after dinner, when he gave Maria a particularly curt answer to a simple question about the children's bedtime. The little one's reaction had been immediate:

"We don't like it when you are mean to Fräulein Maria, father!"

Marta, usually shy, was encouraged by Gretl's outspokenness and added. "Yes. And we don't like it that you don't let her stay around when you are playing with us."

The Captain raised his eyebrows. Maria thought it was the only reaction she would get, considering his indifferent behavior the past few days. It was either that or she should brace herself for an explosion. But then his piercing gaze immediately fixed on her, for the first time since that conversation in the nursery. There it was, that funny feeling in the pit of her stomach again, which made her place both hands there. She took a little step back.

"Am I being _mean_ to you - Fräulein?" he asked her sarcastically.

"You are ignoring her, father, and that is not nice!" protested Louisa, before Maria could answer.

"Children, please," she said, noticing that he was increasingly annoyed by the way the children had jumped to her defense. She turned to him "Oh no, Captain!"

"Is that what you think? That I am _ignoring_ you?" He asked quizzically. Maria had a feeling that he knew exactly what she was talking about, and that it surprised him that his behavior towards her would even be noticed.

"You… You…" No, lying to him would not work – yes, she did think he was ignoring her, but somehow she could not bring herself to confront him about that. Not while he kept his infernal staring, that made it difficult for her to even breathe. Usually she did not have this difficulty being honest; it was not like her at all.

"Yes?" he insisted.

"You are just being _you_, Captain." she said, the closest thing to the truth she could come up with.

"Mmm…"

He marched out of the room, and the conversation ended there. Only after she was half way up the stairs she realized that she indeed must have forgotten how to breathe, because she had to stop for air.

That same evening, Maria overheard him talking to Marta and Gretl about the question which had, somewhat, triggered his odd behavior. What she heard was enough to set her mind at ease, for while – whatever happened, the children would the fine, she became sure of it. She had gone to tuck them in bed and read the usual bed time fairy tale, but she was at the door, she realized that he was already there. She would have walked away, but the sound of her name in Gretl´s voice made her stop just outside the door.

"Do you promise you will be nicer to Fräulein Maria?"

"Yes, darling, I promise," he replied very seriously. This time it was simply the seriousness in his voice, and not the look in his eyes, that was the cause of that funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Now can you please answer my question, father?" she heard Marta asking.

"You see, poppet, your papa loved your mother very, very, _very_ much. Because of that, he decided to plant a seed in her belly. One for each one the seven of you." (2)

"It is what Herr Schmidt does to grow tomatoes in the orchard!" exclaimed Marta.

"Liesl does _not_ look like a tomato," protested Gretl.

"Kurt does, when he stays in the sun for too long!"

From the door, Maria stifled a giggle. She leaned against the wall, and listened. "_Very well, Captain, show me how it's done,_" she thought.

"But father," started Marta.

"_Here we go,_" Maria thought amusedly. "_Let me see how you talk yourself out of this one!_"

"Yes Marta?"

"What did you have to do to water mother's orchard?"

"And how did you plant the seed in her tummy?"

Maria would have given him anything to see his face at the moment. The Captain, however, surprised her again – he knew just what to say, he did not even flinch.

"Oh, that is simple. We grown ups have a special kind of cuddle when we want to do that…"

"You mean… _kissing_?" asked Marta.

"That too…"

Maria chose this moment to step away from the door. Days ago she had censored him for eavesdropping, and now, there she, was, doing the same thing. The fact still bothered her – why did he insist that she took care of the matter, when he could have done it, and so brilliantly?

Shaking her head, she walked to Brigitta and Louisa's room, in order to finish her duties for the night.

---

_A/N: (1)__ This will be another story. Intermezzo II or III. The title will be something like _Cards never lie. _Still a project. (2) The Captain´s explanation, and the outcome of it, was inspired in a letter from a mother I read online. Unfortunately, I do not have the link for it anymore._


End file.
